Reviews

“Lets sift through the static to find a simpler sound than the shit that’s clouding our heads now.” That’s the last line of the first song on Kevin Devine’s “Split The Country, Split The Street.” By far more lyrically masterful than Gavin Degraw, less inventive than but vocally superior to Damien Rice, shockingly similar to Conor Oberst, Kevin Devine has some serious competition in his quest to be a respected singer/songwriter in a generation where every sensitive guy with a decent voice thinks he can be the next Simon or Garfunkel. However, with a slew of instrumental adventures, a guest appearance by Jesse Lacey and a knack for making something out of nothing, this troubadour may be doing something right.
 
I’m a sucker for people who play the Glockenspiel.  For those of you don’t know, a glockenspiel is also known as a set of “Orchestra Bells” and is basically a pint sized, high-pitched xylophone in the mallet percussion family.  Two of the thirteen tracks on this release feature the instrument, played by both Devine himself as well has Mike Skinner, who is also featured clapping and snapping on various tracks.  Also represented on this album are the cello, piano, viola and violin.  There are few things I love more than rock albums that feature symphony, but at the same time, if Devine is singing about simplicity, where is it in his music?  Why complicate everything and make it so congested? By the time I finish reading through the list of individuals who offered their assistance on the recording of this release, I find myself wondering why it’s not just called the Kevin Devine Band.  Why be a solo act if you’re far from solo.
 
Standout tracks include “Cotton Crush” and “After Party” simply because of the guest vocals of Brand New’s Jesse Lacey, “The Shift Change Splits The Streets,” and “No One Else’s Problem,” a dancing song which features a few brief seconds of recorded partying.  Lyrically, Kevin Devine is a poet in every sense of the word.  His prose slightly resembles a style almost like Hemmingway, with abrupt yet definitive sentences and blunt remarks such as “You probably don’t care for punk rock, but you probably love “Crooked Rain.” You Probably don’t talk to strangers like me, but you wish we’d talk
to you just the same.”
 
Overall, this release is mildly above average.  It has its strong points, and is of course, a beautiful work of poetry.  However, the music is far too amalgamated for the straightforwardness of the lyrics.  It doesn’t always have to be about being impressive. Sometimes less is more.